A Taste of Forever
by elewho
Summary: Yang is one of the three women who own Fables - a successful wedding-planning business - along with Weiss and Ruby. They're experts in their respective fields, but being an expert in the wedding business doesn't necessarily mean you're an expert in love. So when Blake Belladonna comes back into the picture, Yang refuses to forgive nor explore what could've been.
1. Chapter 1

_Baking, to Yang's mind, involves skilled precision, steady hands and short hair so it doesn't block the eyes._

_She's two for three, so she thinks she's pretty well off._

_"Hey."_

_She looks up to see Blake, in all of her raven-haired beautiness, leaning against the archway between the kitchen and the living room. Her arms are crossed, amber eyes slightly hooded, face sliding into a fond, content expression that only appears when she's around Yang._

_Yang's heart simply turns in her chest, then settles. "Hey hot stuff. Slept okay?"_

_"Mh-hmm. Missed you in bed this morning."_

_The blonde blushes. "Oh?"_

_"Mm-hmm. Why're you up so early?"_

_"I felt the __need _ _," Yang says with feeling as she measures out the dry ingredients. "The need to bake."_

_"Bake what?" Blake asks as she moves forward._

_"Pancakes. Or is it cook? Do you cook pancakes?"_

_"I think you fry."_

_"Fry." Yang mulls it over as she cracks three eggs into the well inside the batter. "Fry has connotations of being dunked into oil. Whatever. I'm making pancakes."_

_Blake shakes her head in amusement. "Okay. Need help?"_

_"Nah. Sit. Talk."_

_Obediently, Blake slides onto a bar stool, watches as Yang adds milk and melted butter. "We're going to Weiss' prospects today, right?"_

_"That's the plan. She has three, I think. They're all sort of not really within walking distance, so I figure we should just take the train and walk slash bus."_

_"Maybe we can rent some bikes."_

_Yang's lilac eyes sparkle at the idea. "Yes. _ _"_

_"Did you check the weather?"_

_"Bright and sunny for the rest of the week," she answers as she starts to mix._

_"Perfect." Blake grins. "It's you next. Since you're the only one who's sure which college you're going to, we can either leave around the same time—so 10ish—and then do other stuff. Or, and I kinda I like this plan more, we start late and come home late."_

_"Let's play it by ear. The other two might have something in mind."_

_"Okay." Blake seems to consider, then says, "You're really serious about being a pastry chef, aren't you?"_

_"Yeah." She blows hair off her eyes and looks up. "Is that weird?"_

_"No. Kind of." Blake shrugs. "You were also serious about being a personal trainer."_

_"I was." Yang turns to the stove, checks the heat. "But I realised I liked feeding people more than I do making people fit. Guess I'll keep all my secrets to myself."_

_"You're ripped, Xiao Long."_

_Laughing, she starts to spoon up butter, spreads it around the pan. "You've always been set on being a florist, right?"_

_"Ever since your parents showed me their shop. I've always liked flowers, but seeing the work in progress? The behind the scenes? I just fell."_

_"Your work on the school garden was amazing. Even on a tight budget, it was magical."_

_"It isn't hard when the rest of the school look like drab."_

_"Oh, shut up. Take the compliment."_

_They don't run out of conversation, jumping from one topic to another without any segue. It's always been like this, ever since the first day of highschool. It's as if they'd already met, kept talking like they were just pals catching up. Destiny, her mom had called it._

_And when they kissed a year later, clunky and laughing, as the first patriotic firework lit the sky, Yang agreed._

_She's plating the third pancake when Blake says, "I can get used to this."_

_"Hm?"_

_"This," she gestures widely. "Not the AirBnB but...waking up to you. You making me breakfast. Sleeping next to you every night."_

_It's impossible for Yang's heart not to be in her eyes. Impossible, she repeats silently, when she meets Blake's eyes and there's that understanding, that warmth. There's no rush, no rush to say i love you; she knows she has a lifetime to say it. She doesn't say it now, instead she leaves the stove on low, rounds the island. She barely remembers to keep her flour-dusted hands to herself when she leans down and takes Blake's lips._

_There's so much between them, too much to convey in one kiss. There's no zap of lightning now, nothing primal. It's a sunrise, rising from the horizon, filling up her body, her soul, with golden promises of the next forevers. She lingers through the burst of pure adoration, eases back with a soft smile, rests their foreheads together._

_And blinks when she hears a camera shutter from the archway._

_Ruby, her black bob of hair still in sleep tufts, silver eyes sparkling in the morning sun, smiles unapologetically from behind her new Canon camera. "Morning. I was just about to go out and test my camera on some scenery but, well. You two look better."_

_"Let me see," Blake says as Yang presses a kiss to her temple before going back to the pan._

_Ruby walks over and angles the camera screen towards Blake. The latter's smile widens and coos just a little._

_"I _ _love _ _it. Can you print that? I want it."_

_"Sure," Ruby hops onto a bar stool. "What's all this? Are you making pancakes? _ _ Without __me begging you?"_

_"I wanted pancakes," Yang tells her. "You might as well grab Weiss. There's enough batter for all of us."_

_"I'm up," Weiss announces as she walks in. Unlike Ruby, her crystal white hair's already brushed and pristine in its french braid. Her ocean blue eyes are ripe with irritation. "We're leaving in an hour."_

_"Good morning to you, too."_

_Weiss waves away the sarcastic quip from Yang. "I have a schedule—"_

_"Of course you do."_

_"—and I want to stick to it. When's breakfast?"_

_"Never if you stay up on that high horse."_

_"I'm not—yes, I am. God." Weiss drops onto the last bar stool on the other side of Blake. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just on edge. My father called this morning. He wanted to see if I made up my mind."_

_"It's only been two days." Ruby rolls her eyes as she usually does when Jacque Schnee is mentioned. "One, really. The fourteen hour car ride doesn't count."_

_"I know, I know. But he wanted to know which school so he can pull some "favors"." She puts air quotes around the last word._

_"Oh, that's bullshit." Annoyance apparently tripped, Blake whirls to Weiss. "You worked your ass off. _ _ Favors _ _. It's as if you didn't get the highest GPA in the year. Come home with me. You don't need him. We'll adopt you."_

_Weiss smiles fondly at her. "I love you. And your parents. It'll be fine," she adds. "If Winter can be a successful lawyer outside the Schnee firm , I can be a successful businesswoman."_

_"Without question," Yang nods wisely and slides over the tall platter of pancakes. "Now, everybody grab a fork, and eat some pancakes."_

_"Do you think we'll actually keep in touch?" Weiss asks as she forks out a small piece._

_Yang lifts an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't we?"_

_Weiss just shrugs. "I mean, you're going to New York. Blake's going to Massachusetts. Ruby, you're all the way back home in Colorado. And I'm here in Chicago. We're not exactly the next block over."_

_"We are if we all had Schnee jets," Yang says and earns a glare._

_"We have the group chat," Ruby reminds her gently. "We'll always message."_

_"I suppose."_

_"We'll always message," Blake repeats with such certainty that makes Yang's heart lurch again. "We can't just drift apart like other high school friend groups. We're basically family."_

_"Yeah." Ruby agrees. "We're family, Weiss."_

_Suddenly, three phones in pockets vibrate at once, which usually signals a group message. Blake's the first to pull out her phone, so the other two just lean over. Sure enough, there's one unread message from their group chat. Opening the message alert, they see four emoji circles in the order of red, white, black and yellow._

_It's kind of like the group's Batman signal. It's only used for Level 10 emergencies and is treated with absolute respect. Not even Yang or Ruby joke with it, who are usually using some version of it like two blacks and two yellows, or three reds and one white. When the proper order is used, they all knew to meet after school at the park, and reply back if they couldn't make it._

_All of them always made it._

_The last time it was used was in second year high school, sent by Yang. It was after she heard through a classmate that Cardin and his misfits had roughed up Ruby during gym. They'd congregated after school, much to the red-haired's chagrin, and talked through what had happened. They'd discussed a plan, with Blake and Weiss usually playing devil's advocate, and by the end of the week, the boys were giving all four of them a wide berth._

_Blake looks up at Yang, who's holding her phone, beam out a grin. She smiles back knowingly._

_"Yang," Weiss starts to admonish, but there's not much behind it. "You know that's only for important things."_

_"I think this is pretty important. It's important because...uh..."_

_"Because it's an important reminder," Blake provides. "Because it's us, and we'll never be apart. Even if we are."_

_"It's love," Yang continues. "No matter where we are, or what we're doing. It's family."_

_"It's like a psychic, telepathic, borderline creepy connection between us," Ruby adds, laughing uneasily when everybody tilts their head in confusion. "Nobody and nothing can break that."_

_Weiss sniffs. "I love you guys."_

_"Woo! Go Team RWBY!"_

_Ruby gets an eye roll from Weiss. "I thought we agreed our group name — such as it is — isn't __RWBY _ _. That's way too on the nose."_

_"Better than SBRY. What even is that?"_

_"That can mean many things. Strawberry, snowberry."_

_"Bleh. Besides, our signal is in the RWBY order."_

_"Who says we can't change it?"_

_Yang shakes her head in amusement as the banter continues. Her eyes meet Blake's and they just smile at each other._

_Yeah, Yang thinks. Nobody can break this._

* * *

Yang finishes the last buttercream flower cupcake with no less than a _thank fucking god_ at the tip of her tongue. She'd just made one hundred and twelve of them, only taking breaks for sips of water, and her back is debating whether to break or scream. She straightens, arches backwards, pressing a fist at the bottom of her spine. She moans in relief.

Definitely worth it, she thinks, eyeing the whole batch. The myriad of dahlias, delphinium, colourful with pumpkin orange and blurple, hit the bullseye for tomorrow's bride's theme of Autumn Explosion. They blended beautifully from the centrepiece: three tiers, all covered in crystal white fondant for that clean, sleeker look. Sugar paste flowers cascaded from the top, flowing to the right side and pooling as it reaches the cake stand. It's a predesign, but she customised the flowers to be autumn flowers, matched the colours with the cupcakes and added a peek-a-boo kitty at the back. She rotates the cake stand and gives a decisive nod.

"Perfect."

Then again, the brides of Fables expected—deserved—no less.

Carefully, she set the last cupcake into the plastic basin with the rest of them before closing the lid. She glances at the clock and realises with a jolt that it's half past one in the morning. That meant she'd been at this for almost three hours straight.

Easing her apron over her head, she walks to her fridge, studying tomorrow's schedule. The Irvine-Vela wedding event starts around half past one in the afternoon, which pretty much blacks out the entire morning for preparation. She can probably duck out to work for the day-after's event during the ceremony, but that's only if the subs don't need help with reception.

Sighing, she realises she'll have to get up early if she wants a work out before the meeting that prefaced every event. It's not like she can skip the meeting either; it's a tradition they'd perfected since the inception of Fables.

Comfortably tired, she turns off the kitchen lights and starts up the half-spiral staircase that lead to her room on the third floor of the Schnee Manor.

The estate in which it resides covers six acres of land and contained the green house, the pool house, and the enormous Edwardian-style mansion, clearly designed with the intent to impress. The prolific rooflines, long and short arched windows, a generous wood and stone porch greet you from the driveway after, of _course_, you pass through the main gate, the long hedge that surrounded the whole estate, the extensive garden and the small pond shaded by sagging willow trees.

And that's only from the outside, Yang muses as she starts up the second staircase.

Inside, the mansion boasts three wings: East, West and Main, all connected by wide hallways, winding staircases and secret passageways. The east and the west were once the private areas, with offices and three ensuites on both the second and third floor. Now, only the third floor held the private area, and the second floor bedrooms were changed into the bridal and groom suites. Offices were changed (courtesy of Elm's Timbers) into changing rooms, meeting rooms and multiple utility slash storage rooms for stuff and knick knacks.

It's home now, to her and one of hottest event planning companies in the state. She smiles wistfully. In less than five years, she, along with Ruby and Weiss, had built the latter's dream company. Oh, it eventually became their dream, too—_would_ have been their dream from the start if they had known it was even remotely possible.

"You're up late."

She doesn't quite bite back the yelp. "Ruby! Jesus." She lowers her fists that had gone up on instinct. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I was going down for ice cream." In pajamas, Ruby emerges from her door, her bedroom behind her dark and unlit. "I didn't have any left."

"At _one_ in the morning?"

"I wanted some. You're up late," she repeats.

"I was working on the cupcakes for tomorrow's events. Time got away from me."

"Irvine-Vela. Did you make all one hundred of them tonight?"

"One hundred and _twelve_. Yeah, I did. I wanted them as fresh as I can." Yawning, she pats Ruby's shoulder as she passes her.

"Oh, Dad called. I would've told you right after today's event, but the Sarina's mom wanted to see the pictures right away and I just wanted to sleep. But then I woke up and I wanted icecream. Anyway, he said he'll come for the holidays."

Yang turns back and smiles. "Yeah? How long?"

"Until he gets homesick, he said." Ruby lets out a small laugh as she starts heading down the steps. "So I guess two weeks. He's bringing Zwei."

"I'll call him tomorrow morning. 'Night, Rubes."

"Don't be late tomorrow. You know how Weiss is with full-day events."

Yang waves a hand in dismissal.

* * *

She wakes up late.

But she does know how Weiss is with full-day events, so she skips her workout, calls her dad while pulling on a white shirt and denim jeans, and with five minutes to spare, strides in the conference room beelining for the coffee machine.

Weiss is already there, of course, donning a black blazer over a ruffled white shirt, hair tied in her signature no-nonsense French braid. She's sitting at the head of the long table, typing away on her laptop, her trusty phone always at reach.

Face placid, she addresses Yang with, "You're early."

"To be early is to be on time," Yang recites piously as she pours out three mugs and adds a spoonful of sugar to all, "to be on time is to be late."

Weiss unbends enough to let out a snort. "You dolt."

Grinning, she places the mugs on a silver tray before carrying them over. She sets one down next to Weiss, and the other two on opposite sides of the table. She sits, tying her hair in a habitual bun before taking her first sip. "How we looking today?"

"Well—" They both look up as Ruby rushes in, her camera and gear bag swinging from her shoulder.

"Sorry!" She sets her things on the table and grabs the last mug. "There was a pretty bird that basically screamed "Take a picture of me!" So I did. Anyway, Weiss, there's a broken—"

"Already sent the cleaners."

"Oh, okay." She takes one big slurp, winces. "Bleh."

As Ruby goes back to the coffee machine for cream and sugar, Weiss checks her phone. "We should get started. Paige will be coming soon to get everything dressed. Yang, if you're not doing anything, can you lend them a hand?"

"I need to check the cake and pastries, and I need some time to work on tomorrow's reception."

Weiss nods. "Okay. I'll let you know when caterers arrive. Ruby, summit."

"I'm listening!" as she quickly stirs and sits.

Weiss opens the file for the timetable. Needlessly, Yang knows, since her partner misses nothing and remembers everything. _Just dotting my i's and crossing my t's_, she'd say.

"We're looking great today," Weiss begins. "Weather forecast shows sunny with a high of 63. Antonia called. She has already eaten breakfast and is currently making time with her grandma, who'd just arrived from London."

"Is she the one who didn't make the rehearsal?"

Weiss nods at Yang. "Yeah. Antonia's asked for photos of her. A lot."

Ruby nods. "Got it. Got the before shots of the venue too. I'll take the after shots as the dressing goes. I'll be at the bridal terrace about ten minutes before Antonia comes, so I'm free to help Paige if she needs me."

"Good. Vel and Co. should be arriving about an hour before bride and party, so that means both bridal and groom suites need to be dressed for photo ops two hours prior. Ruby, I have here that Antonia asked for a full recording, but I don't have a name for the videographer. Who did you tag today?"

"Clover Ebi."

Yang looks up from her own notes. "Clover, Clover. Who's he again?"

"He's the one hitting on Weiss."

"_Excuse me_." Weiss gapes at Ruby as the latter blubbers out a snort. "He is not."

"He really isn't. That's Neptune. Clover's the one we met at a dinner party. Wouldn't stop talking about fishing and how the luck of the sea—"

"Oh. _Oh. _Okay. Got it. We've never used him before."

"Penny said Ironwood uses him occasionally for events at the firm. He—Clover—said to call him if we need him. I figured, eh, why not. Penny's still on maternity leave for a few more days and Fox was booked today." Ruby sends Weiss an apologetic look. "Sorry I didn't tell you. He just got back to me earlier this morning."

"I trust your judgement." Weiss types up Clover's name in her notes. "Moving on. Ruby."

Knowing the signal, Ruby brings up her own notes. "Like I said, I'm free until ten minutes before Antonia gets here, so I'll help Paige set up the bridal and groom suites. After Antonia, I'll switch to Roger when he arrives, get his photos. Prior the ceremony, I think I'd only need 30, maybe 35 minutes of posed. After the ceremony, friends and family portraits with Antonia and Roger will need at least 45."

"You got 46," Weiss tells her, noting down the time change.

"Okay. Move to the Ballroom afterwards. I'll talk to Clover when he gets here."

"Good. The ceremony should take about an hour. Yang."

"I finished the cupcakes last night, so they'll be primed and ready for the table by the time guests are called to dinner. The cake's going to need some assembly, but I can draft one of the caterers to help me. I'll need Paige to scatter petals at the base when it's done. Ruby, I'd like some shots of this one for the website. It's a winner."

"Got it." Ruby looks up from her laptop. "I'll grab some of the cupcakes too. We've never done floral cupcakes as favors."

"You're right. Thanks."

"Let me know if you can't find a caterer," Weiss tells her. "Alright. Timetable. Paige should be arriving at 10. Floral dressing in bridal and groom suites to be done by 11:30. Foyer, parlour and staircase to be done by 1 for bride and party's arrival at 1:30. 1:20, Ruby will be on bride until groom's arrival. Vel and Co. at 12:20, see if we can draft them and their team for prep. Otherwise, open the bar early, but close when attendants start coming."

"Check," Yang says.

"Groom and party arrives at 2. DJ arriving at 3. Friends and family portraits starts at 3:30. Wedding party, FG and RB in position by 4:02. That's 32 for you, Ruby."

"Got it."

"Attendants seated by 4:10. Ceremony and procession will begin at 4:13 sharp. We have Riley as MC today and she, caterers, and bartenders will be arriving at 4:15. Estimated ceremony finish is 5:14. Formal photo ops to follow. Cake assembled by 6, cupcakes placed by 6:10. Is that alright?"

"We'll make it," Yang logs the times and sips coffee.

"I need to talk to Riley before reception so I need both of you to herd everybody to the Ballroom at 6."

"Aww," Ruby pouts into her mug. "I hate herding."

"Then herd the wedding party after the formal shots. Let Yang handle the rest."

Yang sends Ruby a baleful look. She gets the toothy smile that's worked on her ever since Ruby was born.

"Fine, fine."

"Cocktail hour starts right after the ceremony. Bar opens, hors d'oeuvres served. Herding starts at 6. That's your 46. Wedding party entrance should begin at 6:13. Bride and groom at 6:15. First dance at 6:17. Toasts at 6:21. Then more dances: father-daughter, mother-daughter, bride's father and mother, mother-son start at 6:32. Dinner served at 6:45, bouquet and garter toss at 8:05. Dance floor and bar reopens at 8:17. Bride and groom wants everybody to stay and or be on the dance floor for cake. Cake cutting at 9:45. Desserts passed at 9:50. Last song by 10:15, conclusion by 10:30.

Finally, Weiss takes a breath and a sip. "Alright. Questions, concerns, queries?"

When she receives a double-negative, she continues, "Subs will break down as much as they can at the Grand Hall when we move, but we'll leave the Ballroom and everything else until tomorrow morning. Tomorrow's reception doesn't start until 4 anyway. Last few notes for today, keep an eye on Grandma Cecilia. She's old, so she might fade early. Antonia dotes on her, so we will too. Next, keep an eye on Paige. I had coffee with her sister. The baby's teething, and she's barely had a wink of sleep. Let's take it easy on her.

As Yang and Ruby nod, there's a brisk knock at the door before Klein, the Schnee's loyal and trusted master of the house, pops his head in.

"I beg your pardon, ladies, but Miss Paige has arrived. Shall I send her up to the suites?"

Weiss turns her wrist. "She's right on time. Yes, send her up. Thank you, Klein."

Yang glances at the time on her laptop screen and smothers a snort. _9:45_.

"Of course. Ms. Xiao Long, Ms. Rose, your breakfasts are in the kitchen when you're ready." He slides out in grace.

Weiss sighs as Ruby and Yang grin bashfully. "Eat your breakfasts. Yang, I'll let Paige know about the florals. Ruby, after shots, please. Let's get this started."

* * *

Yang's in her work kitchen when she gets the alert for the bride's arrival. Whipping off her apron, she sheds her comfy slippers for heels and dashes into the main wing and up towards the bridal suite. As scheduled, she spots Ruby at the terrace and veteran wedding florist Paige Leone at the top of the stairs with her ready-to-serve smile.

"Hey," Yang greets as she stands next to her.

"Hi, Yang." Paige's voice sounds tired, but Yang guesses it isn't from today's wedding. "Didn't see you earlier."

"Yeah, sorry. Needed to finish off the last few flowers for tomorrow." She rolls out the last of the cricks in her neck. "Speaking of, Weiss should've mentioned the flowers—"

"The florals for the base and cake table are all ready to go as soon as we start dressing up the Ballroom. My team's just finishing up in the Grand Hall."

"Great." Yang cracks her knuckles as she does when idle. "Do you need help with anything?"

"We just might. I'm down two subs, so we're late on my schedule, but fine on the wedding's. Good thing we started early, or Weiss would have my head."

"You've had a hard week," Yang soothes. "I heard Little Quinn's teething."

"She reminds me of it only every other second. I have to duck out early, too. My sister has her now, but I couldn't find a sitter for tonight, since my usual has a date."

Yang grins. "To be sixteen again."

Paige makes a _pfft_ sound. "I didn't start dating until I was in college. Now _those_ were my prime years."

Laughing, they both turn when they hear the bursts of giggles echo through the house. Antonia, bride of the day and already beautiful without the makeup, all but whirls into the grand foyer.

"I will never ride anything but a limo for the rest of my life. Woo! That was fun. Oh, Grandma, let me help you."

Grandma Cecilia appears in the doorway with a big paper bag and a cane. She swats away her granddaughter's hands when they reach towards her. "I can carry this myself," she declares and proves it, limp-walking across the threshold.

"Mrs. Irvine." Weiss steps forward with a bright smile. "I'm Weiss Schnee. I'm so glad you can join us. How was your flight?"

"Bah." Cecilia flicks a hand as if to vanish the very idea of air travel from the earth. "Planes are just tiny tin cans and we're the sardines. Takes too long, too little space."

"Grandma, we flew you first cla—"

"Bah!"

Okay, Yang muses as she starts down for backup, Grandma's quite the loaded gun. She makes a mental note to serve her the biggest flower cupcake later.

Smile unwavering, Weiss guides the pair to a couch. "I'm still happy you're here. Antonia's told me so much about you. Ah, Yang, perfect timing. Mrs. Irvine, I'd like to introduce you to my partner, Yang Xiao Long. She's in charge of Icing here in Fables."

"The cake." Cecilia offers a hand. Yang isn't quite sure if she should kiss or shake it.

She decides to shake it to spare everybody the humiliation. "Yes m'am." Through her headset, she hears Ruby's subdued laughter.

"You do good work?"

"I'd like to think so."

This earns a huff of laughter from the older woman. "Lovely. Humble. Here," she hands Yang the paper bag.

"That's Antonia's lunch. It's a family tradition to give food before the wedding. And since my son can barely boil water, I cooked it."

"It smells delicious, Mrs. Irvine." It really does, and Yang's grateful she ate breakfast or her stomach would've made noises.

Cecilia nods. "I'm proud of it myself."

Antonia mimes wiping sweat behind her grandma and grins. "Weiss, I am at your beck and call."

"Wonderful, let's head upstairs to your—ah, your ladies are here," Weiss says when she gets the alert through her headset. "Yang, why don't you get her started? Coco will be up there waiting for you. I'll be there shortly."

"Come on, Antonia, let's Barbie you up."

"Oh boy!"

After more introductions with Paige, Ruby, Clover when he arrived, and the make up crew, Yang settles Cecilia down with a glass of champagne, who—for now at least— is seemingly content to sit back and let things unfold. Meanwhile, Antonia chatters like a magpie at the director's chair during hair and makeup.

"Oh, the flowers are wonderful. It's like I'm in one of those forests you see in nature books. You promised me a fable, a fairyland and boy does this feel and look and smell like one. Champagne! _Yes_. Okay, okay. Coco, I put my whole face and hair in your hands."

"That could just be the greatest decision you've ever made." Coco, one half of Vel and Co, a magician with everything cosmetic, grins around a hairpin. "Maybe second to marrying Roger. Let's get this business on the road! Chris, heat up the curler. Uh, Tara? I don't see the hairspray. Pleasure to meet you, Cecilia."

"Will you take care of my baby?"

"Like she's my own, grandmama." She swirls on a protective cloak over Antonia before addressing the rest of the bridal party. "Alright! Who's first?"

"Me, me!"

Coco turns towards one of the bridesmaids. "Okay, firecracker. Let's get you settled. I'll get Chris on you as soon as he stops _fucking around_."

"Where's Velvet?" Yang asks Weiss, talking about the other half of the hair and makeup specialists.

"She'll be coming in ten minutes. They had a scheduling mix up. New secretary," Weiss explains.

"Ah. Should I stay?"

"It should be fine." Looking at her phone, Weiss scrolls through the timetable. "We're two minutes ahead of schedule. I'll stay in case she does need a pair of hands."

Yang eyes the curlers, the straighteners and other hazardous tools laid out on the ornate dressing table. "Better you than me."

"I need to check in with the groom when he arrives. Will you be working on tomorrow's reception?"

"I'm set on that. Paige said she's down subs, so I'll help out in the Ballroom. I'll pass by the Grand Hall, too."

"Alright. If she needs it, let Paige take a break. Status report in fifteen."

* * *

After documenting the ritual of hair and makeup on the bridal side, Ruby dashes over to the groom with Clover barely at her heels.

"You do this _every_ weekend?"

"Most weekends," Ruby replies, slightly out of breath. "It's fun."

"I feel like I just climbed Mount Everest," Clover gulps an exaggerated breath that makes Ruby laugh.

"Don't worry," she smirks at him and says, "This next part should be right up your alley," before opening one side of the double doors to the groom's suite.

The strong cologne mixed with whiskey hits her like a brick wall, and she fights not to wriggle her nose. She quickly takes stock: most of the guys were already in their black tuxedoes, though their ties were loose, cufflinks unfastened. There's some noise, mainly from the TV that played the local football game.

"_Oy vey_," Clover whispers behind her and she snorts.

The sound gets the room's attention and the groom, a glass of whiskey in hand, moves forward with a grin. "Ruby. How's my bride?"

"You're going to swallow your tongue," she says and earns a guffaw.

"Damn right I will."

She gestures behind her. "Roger, this is Clover Ebi, videographer. Clover, this is Roger Vela."

"Mr. Vela," Clover juts out a hand. "It's an honour to be a part of your day."

The men shake hands with gusto. Ruby gestures with her camera. "Don't mind me. I'll be in and out."

"Fine by me," Roger raises his glass towards her. "Tell Antonia I can't wait to marry her."

"I will."

* * *

Exactly on schedule, Weiss has the entire wedding party anxiously shuffling behind the curtains.

On the other side, Paige outdid herself with an autumn forest floor, orange and red and purple pop out from every direction, with just enough white roses to accent. The room is lit by natural light from open tall, arched windows, lacing the exotic scents of mandarin with an outdoor smell. There's a quiet level of chatter, some eagerly looking towards the back for a peek. Roger and his best man stood by the altar, heads ducked together in conversation. Cecilia's already seated at the front, not quite bothered to turn around yet.

The officiant catches her eye, gives a subtle nod. On cue, Yang's voice comes through the headset.

"We're a go."

"Okay. We'll be starting soon," Weiss says to the group. "Mrs. Irvine, are you ready?"

The mother of the bride takes a deep breath. "Yes, I think so. Oh, Antonia."

Weiss passes out tissues.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm okay. I thought I got all of it out of my system this morning."

"That's okay," Weiss assures, subtly checking her makeup. "It's a significant day. Alright, everyone, we're starting the music. Remember the rehearsal. Take your time, not too much time, heads up and smile, smile, smile. Places! Jake and Bonnie, are you two ready?"

The ring bearer and flower girl nod at her eagerly, looking adorably ready to burst out of their skin from excitement.

"Alright," Weiss glances at her watch. "We're right on schedule. Cue music."

"Signalling DJ now," Yang tells her. "Starting in five."

Weiss counts, "Four, three, two," and signals the subs in charge of the curtains. They open, music plays —an acoustic rendition of You Are The Reason—a pause, and out walks the thankfully-dry-eyed mother. The procession continues smoothly; the bridesmaids and groomsmen walk out in their respective pairs. The maid of honour gives Antonia a hard, giddy hug before heading out. Weiss gives the two kids a thumbs up before, to light laughter and applause, they all but dance down the aisle.

"Curtains close. Cue music change in ten seconds. This is your day, Antonia. When the curtains open, slowly count to five. Let everybody soak in how absolutely regal you look. Harry, you must be so proud."

The father of the bride doesn't say anything, just nods vehemently, his grip on his daughter tight and true. Even in the dim candlelight, Weiss can see him barely holding himself together.

"He can't talk or he won't make it," Antonia pats his hand with a watery laugh.

"It's an amazing feeling, isn't it, to have such a wonderful daughter, who you've watched grow into this stunning woman? Now you'll watch her follow in your footsteps, raise a loving family and you'll think: I did that." Weiss hands out a tissue as Harry breaks. "You did that, Mr. Irvine, and I think it's time to see it come to fruition."

"Weiss, you're a lovely girl, you are. Alright, Antonia." He draws a shaky breath, releases it, pockets the used tissue. "Alright. I'm so proud of you. Let's get you married."

"I love you, Dad."

"Oh, don't you start."

Weiss smiles, talks low as she lays a finger on her headset. "Schnee. We're ready."

"Xiao Long. DJ's thumbing up."

"Rose. Eyes are on the prize."

Weiss fusses with the train, sidestepping as Antonia, a vision in shimmering white, takes her position. She fluffs, smooths and keeps out of Ruby's camera's line of sight when she hears chairs scraping, the music fading out and into a new song.

She gives the bride a final smile, "You look picture perfect, Antonia."

Finally, Can't Help Falling in Love starts and Weiss gestures to the two subs.

"Open."

* * *

The only real way to know if a reception was a hit is to look at the dessert table and the dance floor.

To their pleasure, the playlist expertly got most guests boogeying and sweating over dance moves, and the parfaits and macarons made by Yang have been swarmed since the beginning of dinner. It's a party, and the three partners experience the same thrill in the spine when they hear the bride's enthusiastic _woo!_ as she's whirled around by the groom.

"So far, so good," Yang comments.

"Cecilia's good, too," Ruby says through the headset. "I think she'll last 'till the end. Wow, I'm getting really good candids. These people can _dance_."

"Roger was a dance instructor," Weiss informs from her corner of the room. "Some of the guests are from his studio."

"I remember that from my notes. Kind of. Clover? You doing okay?"

"Quite a party you guys throw." Yang can hear the grin in his voice. "I'll be catching the other guests in a minute. I'm right by the bride and groom. They look like they're having a lot of fun."

"That's what we wanna hear."

"Cake cutting in ten," Weiss announces as she moves towards the door. "The cupcakes were an absolute win, Yang. Not a single one left."

"Nothing but the best for our brides."

"Signalling MC and DJ in five. Yang, caterers should be tending to desserts soon. Someone keep time. I'll start transferring gifts to the limo. Nearly there, people."

* * *

Yang laughs as Ruby all but melts into the couch. They're on the third floor of the main wing, winding down after what was without a doubt a successful event.

"My feet," Ruby whines as she presses her fist against the sole of her right foot. "I _hate_ heels. You'd think I'd be used to them by now, but they hurt just as much as they did the first year we started."

"Just give it more time," Yang suggests and stretches her arms up to the ceiling. "How did Clover hold up?"

"Good. Great, actually. He kept up with me, which is what matters. I'll check his footage tomorrow morning."

They look up when they hear the unmistakable _clack clack_ of Weiss' heels on polished tiles. Yang lolls her head backwards on the couch to get an upside down view of her friend. "How was last sweep?"

"No items for the lost and found this time," Weiss reports before dropping down next to Yang. "Last guest was shepherd out just before 10:25. Grand Hall's been completely disassembled, so that's one item off tomorrow's list."

Properly upright, Yang raises her bottle of water in toast. "We did good today."

"We did!" Eyes closed, Ruby smiles. "The way the guests lined up with your cupcakes for Antonia and Roger's entrance at reception? It's like everybody was part of the wedding party, had their own miniature bouquet."

"We did do good," Weiss agrees, toeing off her own heels. "Ah. So good, in fact, that one of the guests has asked for a consult. It's not a maybe consult, too. It's a please-do-my-wedding consult."

Ruby waves a weak fist in the air. "Yay. When?"

"I'll be meeting them on the first Tuesday of December. Yang, you have a consult offsite on that day, but Ruby, you have a slot open. If you're fine with it, I'd like to show them your workplace."

Ruby nods and takes advantage of the whole couch. "Fine by me," she struggles against a yawn as she closes her eyes. "I'm gonna sleep right here."

"You have a perfectly fine room a few steps away."

"Yeah, but that involves getting up. Maybe we should hire people to carry us to places."

Yang snickers, "Like a palanquin?"

"Yeah, except without the palanquin. The people carrying the palanquin."

"I have no idea what they're called."

Rolling her eyes, Weiss looks at her phone. "On that note, I'm going to bed. Good job tonight, girls. Tomorrow's summit will be at 3. Don't be late."

The sisters start together, "To be early is to be—"

Flinging her hands up in the air, Weiss makes an irritated sound before slamming her door to laughter.

* * *

Weiss opens her door a few seconds later, says, "They're either called bearers or porters, by the way," and closes it again.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Yang is swamped with events, appointments, cake testings and errands she left last minute. November passes, and next thing she knows, she's complaining about the inch of snow that's forecasted to hit by tomorrow morning.

"I barely rode Bumblebee this year."

"A motorcycle's just not practical," Weiss decrees over a slice of toast. All three of them are eating breakfast at the round table in the dining room. "Especially if you're you and you don't bring out your laundry until you literally have no clothes left."

"I have clothes left!" Yang insists.

"How many times have you worn those pajamas?"

And broods. "Only like three times."

Weiss simply points at her. "Point made."

"Girls, girls." Humour in her tone, Ruby piles on a teeth-aching amount of whipped cream on her waffles. "Yang, I'm passing the laundry place on my way to a shoot if you need your suits washed. I'm leaving after breakfast."

"I'll bring them out. Thanks, Rubes."

"You have to stop enabling her like that," Weiss says, but her eyes are flicking between her toast and Ruby. "But...since you're going there anyway..."

Ruby laughs. "Bring yours out, too."

* * *

"Mr. Arc," All smiles, Weiss shakes his hand as he enters the grand foyer. "I hope the drive over wasn't too bad."

"Oh, it wasn't really. We left just before the dusting began. And please, call me Jaune. Ah, this is my fiancee, Pyrrha Nikos."

"Ms. Nikos, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Please come in."

"Pyrrha. You have a lovely home, Ms. Schnee."

"Weiss," she replies, "and thank you."

Shy, she realises as they shake hands. The grip was firm, but once the contact broke, Pyrrha—habitually, it looked like—stepped back to Jaune and looped her arm around his. As for him, the brittle bravado couldn't be more obvious, but the innate warmness comes through quite significantly.

"So!" Jaune rocks back and forth on his heels while looking around. "This is where it happens. I gotta admit, we have no idea where to start. We've only been engaged for a month, so we haven't really looked into anything and—"

"That's what I'm here for," Weiss interrupts and gestures to the seats in the conversation area. "Do either of you want some coffee? Jasmine tea?"

"Just water for me. Pyrrha?"

"Tea, please," she says as she lowers to the seat. "Thank you."

Weiss nods, pours tea and water into cup and glass before she picks up her pen and notepad. "Let's start with when."

Pyrrha tucks her hair behind her ear. With the way the winter sunlight reflected off the fiery red hair, the way it curtains around her narrow face, her magic-sea-green eyes, Weiss absently thinks: Athena.

"We're thinking of next year," Pyrrha tells her. "Around late October. I couldn't make it to Antonia and Roger's wedding, but Jaune showed me pictures and it looked like a whole new world."

"Antonia and Roger's wedding was dressed by Paige Leone. She's an artist with flowers. We've been working together since last year, and all of her work has been documented and posted on our website."

"Ruby Rose," Pyrrha's eyes gleam. "I just don't know how she gets all those moments. It's like she's not even there. I suppose that's what being a professional is all about. But..."

Weiss tilts her head in question.

"We did look into Paige's work, and yes, it's all amazing, but I was wondering if I can bring in our own florist for our wedding."

"Of course," Weiss clicks her pen. "Who do you have in mind?"

"She's not, like, world-renowned or anything," Jaune says. "She's our friend, owns a little flower shop over in Los Angeles. Ah, her name's Blake Belladonna. She's a good friend of ours."

Weiss wings a silent thank you to her father—may he rot in prison—for teaching her how to conceal any sort of emotion. Then she follows that up with a thank you that this meeting was only a formality and not a full consult.

She looks up, face still in a polite smile. "Blake _is_ unbeatable with floral masterpieces."

The surprise in Pyrrha's voice is unpalatable. "You know Blake?"

"Yes. We were friends in highschool and college. We...drifted apart around graduation, but we kept in touch through emails."

"Wow," Jaune grins and looks at Pyrrha. He interlocks their fingers. "Small world, huh? It must be fate."

It must be, Weiss muses later as she watches the happy couple back out of the driveway through her office window. It's almost a comically cosmic coincidence. She angles her head when the side door from the kitchen swings open, watches as Yang grumbles through the snow and to her car, her hair rustling in the cold wind.

Well then, she thinks. I think it's time for a family reunion.


	2. Chapter 2

_So far, Blake Belladonna has redefined her definition of happiness a total of four times._

_Her first definition forms at six years old._

_She comes home from school, finishes her homework in ten minutes and immediately plays with her Barbie and Bratz dolls. Like a good deity, she makes them suffer problem after problem, puts them through several breakups and lots of crying. Sometimes she's nice and lets them hang out with their friends without much happening, maybe put on some makeup using pen markers, but that's only on very very rare occasions._

_Sometimes they even get __married__ (though she doesn't admit it's usually between dolls she doesn't want to play with anymore) and she makes wedding bouquets out of Kleenex._

_When her dad comes home, she abandons her creations on the living room floor and bullets to him, her arms already reaching up. She lets out a woohoo! when he hoists her up to his shoulders. She's not tall enough for her head to reach the ceiling yet, but she's getting there just you wait. She noisily kisses the top of his head and plays with his hair._

_"Good evening, Blake." Ghira lowers her onto his arm and smiles. "How was your day?"_

_"Good." She plays with his tie, loosening it. "Trisha and Paul broke up, but Jack and Hayden are still good."_

_"Oh?"_

_"Yup. And maybe tomorrow Trisha and Paul can talk and make up, but I have to make sure Trisha apologises first."_

_"Why did they break up?"_

_She rolls her eyes as if the answer should've been obvious. "She wouldn't share her lunch at school."_

_"That ought to do it."_

_"Yup. But Anna and Alex are okay. They're just talking."_

_"That's good. Are they dating?"_

_"Mmm, no. Not yet. Anna knows that Alex and Hayden like her, but she doesn't want to choose."_

_"Maybe she doesn't have to."_

_Blake considers this. "Maybe. She can be alone."_

_"Everybody needs somebody important," Ghira tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "but it doesn't have to be a relationship."_

_"Anna doesn't even know Alex and Hayden that good."_

_"Maybe they'll be better off as friends."_

_"Maybe." Blake files this for later. Ghira sets down his briefcase on the couch as they pass the living room. She pretends not to see the wince when he sees her dolls strewn all over._

_"Which one's Trisha?"_

_She points. "That one. The black hair one. See? She's talking to her mom because she's sad."_

_"Because she and Paul broke up."_

_"Yup. Paul's over there," she points again, "with his friends. He's trying not to look sad."_

_Ghira chuckles. "Okay. Where's your mom?"_

_"Mom's in the kitchen making dinner. We're having_ _baked salmon__." She makes sure to enunciate._

_"Your favourite."_

_Ghira heads for the kitchen and winks at Blake. Immediately knowing the cue, she grins and nods vigorously, tucking her elbows in position. He walks up to his wife, who's looking out the open window above the stove, and Blake claps her hands over her mom's eyes from behind._

_Kali's voice is full of smiles and mirth. "Blake, is that you?"_

_"Yup!"_

_"You couldn't even reach my elbow when I picked you up from school today."_

_"I drank milk!"_

_"And you grew up that fast?"_

_"Yup!"_

_"We can make a fortune with that milk."_

_"No, no. Just for us."_

_"Us?"_

_Her mom may have meant her and Blake, but Blake's already bursting with giggles and she exclaims, "Busted! Dad's home!"_

_Kali turns with a smile as wide as Blake's. "Welcome home, Ghira."_

_Ghira laughs and kisses the top of his wife's head. He sets Blake down on a chair, and she swings her legs as Ghira sets the table._

_It's like this almost every night, but there's something happening in Blake's mind. She catalogues everything happening right now, right this second. How her dad places down plates and forks and knives, giving her a soft smile and telling her dinner should be ready any minute. How he goes to her mom, brushes a hand down her back before whispering something in her ear. How her mom throws her head back laughing and he grins proudly, his eyes crinkling on the sides._

_She didn't know what it was then, not really._

_But all six year old Blake knew is that she really really wanted that for herself one day._

* * *

Winter in Los Angeles can either mean two things: rain or no rain. Obviously, she would prefer the latter because that means people were more willing to go outside which means more customers which means more flowers for her to play with which means more green lining her pockets.

Right now though, as she stares out the window, Blake isn't even sure if she's supposed to call this rain.

It's a biblical, torrential downpour that makes Noah's measly world-ending flood look like a puddle. The accompanying thunder sounds like a whip cracked on concrete, the rip of lightning spider-webbing across the graphite sky. The water droplets don't even look like rain; it's like someone just took a bottomless bucket of water, went up to the sky and tipped it.

Blake sighs and goes to the shop door, turning the small wooden sign over to _Open_. She's opening alone this morning, but her mom would be coming over to help with what she hopes would be an existent lunch rush.

She heads for the backroom, deciding to get a start on chores. Habitually, she turns on the radio connected to the speakers around the shop. She barely registers the first song as she rummages through drawers for clean brushes, finds them, and begins her attack on the small clay pots covered in soil and debris. It's actually an easy fight won, so she turns to the larger pots soon after.

It's a routine that she doesn't let become a routine. That would suggest monotony, and her business was anything but monotonous. Beauty's Roses and Gardens wasn't big enough to warrant an everyday trip, but her weekend and midweek adventure to the flower markets are something out of a dream. She allows herself to enjoy the myriad of scents from the fresh-cut flowers, just gardens and centrepieces waiting to happen. She lets herself laugh at some of the prices vendors put out, before settling in to haggle.

After pots and vases of all sizes practically outsparkled the sun, she moves on to mixing gallons of flower food and water, storing them in wide, glass containers. She's just finishing her second container when the bell above the front door rings. She glances at the security monitor and hurries to seal the container when she sees a customer.

She doesn't rush out — that would be unprofessional — but her long strides gets her to the counter. She smiles easily when she recognises who had come in.

"Mr. Rogers." Bordering seventy five (or sixty if you ask him), George Rogers is a sweet soul with a knack of getting into trouble with his grandkids. The last Blake's heard, the old man had been on a stepladder fixing a lightbulb, which apparently he should not be doing with his deteriorating joints. With that in mind, she flashes a grin, "Been playing with lightbulbs lately?"

George guffaws, sliding his umbrella into one of the holders by the door. "They took my stepladder, my lightbulbs _and_ the lawnmower. Now I have to wait for one of them to remember to cut the grass. Darn kids."

Blake doesn't miss the wholehearted affection behind the words. "Do they forget often?"

"No, but only because I tell Lucy to call them about it," he says, referring to his equally sweet wife. "Which brings me to why I'm here."

Blake offers a chair and George thumps down in relief. "Thank you. So, Lucy and I will be reaching our golden anniversary in two weeks."

Blake pushes through the moment of shock and obediently says, "Wow."

"Absolutely. I don't know how I put up with her this long." He winks when she chuckles. "Anyway. I'd like to ask if you..." he pulls out a photograph from inside his jacket, "can replicate this."

Leaning against the counter, she takes the photo and her mind went to goo. It's George and Lucy, looking like the luckiest couple on earth. It's obvious that this was on their wedding day with the way they stood stiffly on the church stairs in a tux and gown, though their smiles remained genuine and unprovoked. After a quick glance at the boutonnière and everything else, Blake's attention zeroes in on Lucy's wedding bouquet. The posy is on the simpler side, apt considering the time period, and it looked perfect for the small woman. The photograph is in black and white, but she can make out the centre flower just by their size and bloom.

"You two look beautiful," she says finally.

"Yes, she does."

"You want me to replicate the bouquet?"

"Yes. I want to surprise her with it, you see. She doesn't think I'm doing anything, so—"

"I can keep a secret, Mr. Rogers," she says with a small smile.

"Yes," George repeats and smiles back. "So will you do it?"

"I would be honoured. I'll take a picture of the photo on my phone so you can take it back." As she grabs her phone from her back pocket, she asks for basic details. It's to be picked up the day of the anniversary, along with a vase and some flower food. It's to be spared no expenses, though she's certain this wouldn't cost much. And, to her relief, she is allowed to take some creative liberties.

"I'll get you the invoice when it's finished, Mr. Rogers," she tells him as she hands him his umbrella at the door.

"Yes. Thank you, Blake. And you'll keep this a secret between us?"

"My lips are sealed."

"Good."

Filled with excitement from a new project, Blake all but skips back to the backroom. She finishes mixing and storing the rest of the flower food, handles the small group that had come to peruse, rings up a small arrangement of red and white roses. She is sitting on a stool stripping stems when Kali comes in through the door wearing a raincoat.

"Hey!" Blake beams at her.

"Hi, honey." Kali sheds the raincoat and hooks it onto the back of the door. The storm continues to batter against the windows, demanding entry. "It is _pouring_ out there. Did you bring an umbrella?"

"Yes, thank God. It started just as I got out of the house. How's Dad?"

"He's fine. He was a bit grouchy this morning, but that's mainly because his new interns aren't very... well-trained. You know, the kind that excelled in the classroom but couldn't apply it in a real workplace. He'll deal with them. How was your morning?"

"It was good. We have a new order."

It always earns Kali a thrill when her daughter says _we_. This time is no different. "What is it?"

"Mr. Rogers has asked us to replicate his wife's bouquet for their golden anniversary."

"Lucy's wedding bouquet?" Kali's eyes dances. "It was a pretty one, if I recall. Small."

"It was." Blake stops stripping long enough to show her the picture. "See?"

Kali studies the photo. She doesn't have Blake's intuition and adoration for flowers, so she's not entirely sure what the bouquet includes. She asks.

"Hm," Blake looks at the photo, upside down from her position, "The ones in her hair are daisies, definitely. Isn't that clever? Using daisies as a veil. Then it flows down to here, see, to her sleeves and the bouquet itself. I might fluff it out, maybe lily of the valleys, definitely baby's breath. Even Mr. Rogers has daisies for his boutonnière."

She realises she's completely hunched over her phone, fingers absently combing through her bob and looks up to see Kali writing down the flowers she'd mentioned. "Just for tomorrow's trip down to the flower markets," Kali says.

She smiles, "Thanks, Mom."

They both look up when the bell rings, sees another group wandering the floral walls through the security monitor. Blake's about to stand when Kali waves her off. "You finish those off. I can handle them."

"Okay. Thanks."

As Kali sails out, the phone on the wall rings in a probable customer. Blake looks back at the monitor to see more people come in. The rain apparently deterred nobody; she should've expected it from Los Angeles. She allows herself a small grin, nothing else, before she picks up the phone.

* * *

By closing, geraniums of all shades, marigolds, chrysanthemums, Rosa mutabilis and a boatload of poinsettias were added to the list for tomorrow's market. Amongst other things.

She'd told Kali to go home after two hours of no customers, so she's closing on her own. The sun is just setting when she shuts the shop's small safe. The rain had dialled back to a sprinkle, to her surprise, and it makes the sunset look washed out through the window. As she turns off the lights, preparing to head home, she answers her phone on its second ring.

"Hello?"

"Blake!"

She smiles. "Hi, Sun."

"Where've you _been_, dude? I've been trying to call you all damn week."

"I—"

"Doesn't matter, doesn't matter. What matters _now_ is you coming to Neptune's place tonight."

She vaguely remembers getting an invitation to a Christmas party at Neptune's. "I didn't know that was today."

"It's in a few hours. You'll come, right? I'll be there. I mean, obviously I'll be there or I wouldn't have asked. Anyway, it'll be hella cool I _promise_."

"Sun," she begins, but there's already a sort of defeated acceptance in her tone because it's Sun, "it's been a really long day. I—"

"Just for a few hours," he insists. "Please? I'll even pick you up and drop you home. Come on, where's your Christmas spirit?"

"Christmas isn't until a week away," she tries with no real conviction.

"Aw, come on, Blakey. Just for a few hours. I won't leave your side the whoooole time."

Blake sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'll have dinner, I guess."

"Great!" Sun seems all too happy. "What time should I—"

"No, no. I'll get there myself, just text me the address."

"Yeah yeah yeah, no problem. I'll be at the front steps."

* * *

Blake reminds herself that it's a good thing she's going out, that she's hanging out with friends.

But as the noise increases in volume — undoubtedly from the house with the bright lights and cars spilling from the driveway — it's getting harder to not turn tail and run.

"Just at that house," she tells her Uber driver.

"Some party, huh?"

"Mm-hmm." _Some party_.

When the driver rolls to a stop in front of Neptune's front porch, she juts out her umbrella first; it's still sprinkling. She thanks her driver, slides out of the car and stiffens when she's immediately engulfed in a bear hug, then relaxes when her senses are overloaded with Axe body spray. Having a tradition to uphold, she wrestles away, careful to keep the umbrella upright, "Sun, you're suffocating me."

"You came!" Sun, with his boyish and affable grin, studies her under his own umbrella. "Lookin' good, Blakey."

She supposes the plum oversized turtleneck sweater she paired with black jeans and boots of matching colour with the sweater makes quite the picture.

"Thanks."

Sun jerks a thumb towards the party. "Come on, let's get out of the rain. How was work?"

"Busy," is all she says. "It's Christmas season."

"Damn right it is!" He opens the door to a remix of Jingle Bell Rock that makes her ribcage thud with the bass. Her vision is a flurry of dangling Christmas lights, champagne-filled glasses and neon spotlights over the living-room-turned-dance floor. Already, far too many people come and greet Sun, like he hasn't been inside the past hour. It's like an intervention, but he finally gets a chance to introduce her to a girl sober — or nice — enough to ask who he was with.

"This is Blake Belladonna, florist extraordinaire!"

This is what she likes about Sun. He's either all bravado, brandishing every word he says like it's a bunny out of a hat or he's quiet, listening earnestly to what she had to say. He's usually good (usually_. _there has been mishaps.) at figuring out which Sun she needs at a given point in time, even if she didn't know it.

He knows parts of her past, the parts she's allowed him to know. It isn't any more than anybody else's knowledge of her, but she feels Sun is intuitive enough to figure out the rest. She doesn't correct him, doesn't add more to the story. She nods along, because it helps her separate that Blake from this Blake.

"Nice to meet you."

Blake belatedly realises she tuned out on the girl's name. They shake hands. "Ah, yeah. You, too."

"We need to get you a drink," Sun is already herding Blake to the kitchen before she can say anything.

"I just wanted dinner—"

"Dinner and a drink. You didn't even drive here. I could've spare you the forty bucks you'll spend on Uber tonight."

"But then I wouldn't be able to leave if you wanted to stay."

"You could've ordered the Uber from here. That's still twenty bucks saved."

"You wouldn't let me."

"Yes, I would!"

"Sun," she says his name fondly, "no, you wouldn't have."

He sighs. "Yeah, okay, I wouldn't have."

He hands her a flute of champagne, clinks it with his and they both take a sip. "Food station's just over there," he points towards the long table with silver chafing dishes lined up, "plates are over there. Fork and stuff are at the end of the table, but I'd just use hands. It's finger food."

"Okay."

"And don't get the potato wedges. They're a bit cold. Definitely some of the sliders. Maybe the calamari."

Blake lifts an eyebrow. "You want me to get you a plate."

The answering grin and head scratching gives her the answer before he says, "Yes, please."

* * *

They find a spot to sit by the stairs. They tried sitting next to each other, but for reasons Blake would rather not know, people went up and down the stairs in alarming frequency. Sun ends up having to sit two steps above her, and she has to lean against the wall to talk to him properly.

She pauses in the act of eating a nugget when Neptune rushes up to them. "Hey! Finally. Blake, you look great."

"Thanks, Neptune. Great party."

"Thank you," he says with a bow. "Um. What're you guys doing on the stairs?"

Sun pointedly waves the slider in his hand. "Eating. Duh."

"There's heaps of chairs around. Why not just grab some?"

"There weren't any when we looked. Besides, it's comfortable here."

As Sun claims that, two guys murmur _excuse me's_ and _sorry's_ as they tiptoe down the stairs.

"Yeah," Neptune deadpans. "So comfortable."

Blake hides her smile in a calamari and cuts in before Sun could initiate a full-scale banter. "So, Neptune, how's the book going?"

"It's going good!" He drops down on the step between Blake and Sun, laying across it. "I actually just came back from Colorado two days ago, from a much needed sabbatical. It gave me enough writing juice to finish the second last chapter."

"He found a girl," Sun clarifies.

"I had to leave her, the poor thing. I hope she wasn't as devastated as I am."

"You forgot her _name_."

"That does not mean I didn't care for her," Neptune feigns hurt. "She was quite the muse."

Blake rolls her eyes. Neptune goes through muses like bags of chips, never really settling for one. She'd called him out on it before, but all he said was that he had a writer's heart, whatever the hell that meant.

"Oh, yeah," Neptune sits up. "Do you guys remember Pyrrha and Jaune?"

Sun snorts before popping his last chicken nugget in his mouth. "The most unlikely couple in the history of ever? Yeah."

"I caught up with them while I was there. They're engaged. Woah." Alarmed, Neptune moves out of the line of fire as Sun chokes on the nugget.

"_What_?"

Blake's eyes widen. "Really?"

"I know, right? It's only been a few months since Pyrrha's moved there, but I guess Jaune wanted to tie her down."

"I can see that," Blake considers it, nibbling on the last macaron. "Yeah, I can see that. Good for them."

Neptune gives Sun one hard slap on the back that sends the undigested nugget out of his throat and onto the floor. "Disgusting," Neptune rolls his eyes. "Clean that up, bro. Anyway, they seemed happy. They were looking for a wedding planner when we caught up."

She nods. "Ah."

"You're from there, right? Know anyone?"

"I haven't been there in years, Neptune. I don't know anyone."

Neptune shrugs. "Figured I'd ask. They told me they'll be asking you for florals."

"Me?" Blake blinks. "From all the way here?"

"I mean, if anybody can make it happen, you can. They wanted to include as many friends as possible. They already got Nora and Ren for catering."

"Oh."

"I'm sure they'll call you," Neptune tells her as Sun grumbles and picks up the nugget with a napkin.

"But—"

Two guys run up to them, slightly red from effort or alcohol. "Hey man," one pants out, "They're using your trident for Pin The Santa. We swear, we told them not to."

"Jesus!" Neptune scrambles to his feet. "That trident is _important_."

He stomps off and Sun finally regains the power of coherent speech. He washes the rest of his coughs down with champagne. Clearing his throat, he ventures, "Pyrrha and Jaune, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I'm happy for them."

Blake looks up at Sun, searching. "You are? I thought you had a crush on Pyrrha."

"An obligatory one, I think. You can't not have a crush on her. No matter which team you swing for."

She silently agrees with that statement.

"But she was always so lonely. You can see it whenever we see her at a party. People always liked watching her from a distance."

"Being a local celebrity can have its downsides," Blake supposes.

"I guess. Jaune was the first one to really _see_ her. It probably helped that he had no idea who she was."

Blake was there when they met, and she had no problem pulling out a mental image of Jaune blubbering through his introduction. He probably didn't see it as blubbering, she muses. His style of suave isn't really on par with Sun or Neptune's.

"Anyway. It's kinda awesome they're getting friends to help out. It'll be a team effort kind of thing. You'll do the flowers, right?"

"I mean, of course I'll try." Blake gives a noncommittal shrug. "I can spare a few days to help, but they haven't exactly called me yet. I'll wait until they do before I plan anything."

Sun nods, sensing the end of the conversation. He glances at the time, hauls himself and Blake up to their feet. "Come on. I can feel you wanting to head out. One dance before you go."

Because she'd been called out and knew refusal would lead to begging, Blake admits defeat, "Fine."

* * *

The call comes a few days into the new year, right after she'd send off a very happy, nearly crying, Mr. Rogers to his golden anniversary.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Blake! It's Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos."

Blake lets herself grin as she leans against her kitchen counter, looking out at a sunny Los Angeles morning. "I've heard it's about to be Pyrrha Arc."

"You heard!" Pyrrha's laughter comes through like flowing velvet. "You heard right. I'm sorry I haven't told you sooner. It's all been really, really busy."

"How's the new job?"

"Wonderful. I'm just an editor for now, but they said I could have a column whenever I submit one. I've tried to write, but nothing's scarier than a blank page. But that's neither here nor there. I'm getting married!"

Blake chuckles, "I'm happy for you two."

"Thank you. There's so much I have to do. You probably already know what I'm going to ask. There's ten months left."

She does the math. "So you're getting married in October?"

"October 17, actually. We got the venue and the date thanks to the goddess of wedding planners."

"You found one? Neptune said you were looking for one while he was there."

Pyrrha laughs again. "I should've known Neptune was the one who told you. Yes, we were. Then we got invited to a wedding at this place called the Schnee Estate. The owners were apparently this pretty big law firm here in Denver. But anyway, I couldn't go because I had an assignment, but Jaune sent me pictures and we both just fell in love with the place so I told him to ask for a consult. Oh, Blake, we had no idea where to start but Weiss — she's the wedding planner, by the way, Weiss Schnee, she mentioned you guys know each other — helped us out so much. She sent us home with packets to study. To see if we'd rather a DJ or a band or plated meals or a buffet. What do you think? Hello? Blake?"

Blake has an errant thought that she's never heard Pyrrha say this much in one go. But that thought disintegrated like every other thought that came after she'd heard 'Schnee Estate'.

Her heart rate slows at first, which is weird because she once read that shock (which she guesses is what's happening) is suppose to increase your heart rate. But no, it slows down, a dull thud in her ears. Everything else is muted, even Pyrrha's increasingly worrying tone. Her nerves suddenly go numb, like she's suddenly in an ice bath. Her eyes are open but she can't actually see anything around her and her mind starts tangling and warping together incoherent sentences struggling to find a foothold as she careens down a hole of

_Pyrrha and Jaune found Weiss and Pyrrha and Jaune found Fables which means Pyrrha and Jaune found—_

* * *

_"Yang!"_

_The second time she redefines happiness_

_"Watch out, Blake!"_

_is during a dodgeball game_

_"__Yes__! Nice one, Ruby!"_

_where she and her friends are facing off against a more 'athletically inclined' group of boys._

_They're freshmen, and it's gym, which is the only class all four of them have together. They usually don't take it too seriously (except Weiss still tries hard enough for an A) so they use the time to catch up or plan what they'll be doing after school. They're not exactly girly girls who run away from the balls — Blake wrinkles her nose at the thought — but they're not exactly gunning for participation credit either._

_Except today, the boys hit a nerve._

_Cardin the Meathead hadn't really addressed them directly, more the general female population. He whines, "Coach B, can't the boys play their own gams? Girls throw balls like little kids throw Barbie dolls."_

_"Yeah!" Russel the Sheep yells. "They throw so bad!"_

_The first thing Blake did was roll her eyes; she never threw her dolls. It would break them. The second thing she did was look at her friends, fully intending to quietly make fun of Cardin and his minions, but Yang had a gleam in her eye that intrigued her._

_Which is how she finds herself in a four v_ _ersus _ _seven scenario, determination flowing through her blood._

_Weiss takes the lead. "Okay. If we can just get Russel and _ _Adam_ _ out, then—"_

_"No, no," Yang interrupts, palming a ball, eyeing the enemy, "we need to go for whoever we can right now. There's seven of them and four of us. We'll chip away at them, just don't get hit."_

_"Alright, team." Ruby tosses a ball in Blake's hands. "Let's do this."_

_They step towards the line as a unit. On the other side, Cardin and the _ _most _ _of the boys sneer at them, exuding typical teenage male bravado. The rest of the class are watching them eagerly from the sidelines. Blake narrows her eyes, calculating her options, then Ruby heaves the first ball._

_She misses, but Yang follows it up with her own and hits one of the boys at the front._

_A shrill whistle blows through the gymnasium as Coach Bottalico yells, "Out!"_

_Blake throws a curveball, barely missing Russel's calf._

_Weiss gets two out through sheer luck, as her ball hits one and ricochets off to another like some sixth sense wizardry._

_"Tommy, Adam, out! Good work, Weiss!"_

_"Thank you!"_

_It's an even fight now, and they don't have any balls left on their side of the court. They don't have to wait long before the boys start launching._

_Cardin hurls his ball, and Yang easily avoids it with a sidestep. She sees a second ball coming from Russel, plants her feet down and catches it, stumbling back just a little._

_"Out!"_

_Russel kicks the floor in frustration before storming off to the sidelines._

_Blake grabs the second ball, locks eyes with Ruby, who'd just gotten a ball of her own, and they nod. They aim for the boy on the left, and both balls hit leg and foot. They whoop as the whistle sounds._

_It's Cardin and a boy left; the latter looks like he'd rather just take his ball and hit his own leg with it and call himself out. He doesn't though, and weakly throws it in Weiss' general direction. She catches it with ease._

_Blake laughs loudly when Cardin snarls. "Is that suppose to intimidate us?"_

_"You watch yourself you lowly—"_

_Yang fires a ball and hits his calf. "Sorry," she grins, a hand on her cocked hip as a long whistle blows, "sounds like what you were going to say wasn't gonna be nice."_

_A smattering of applause starts from the sidelines, and Coach Bottalico yells out, "Good job_ _,_ _ girls. Alright, we have time for one more. One more game! Same teams, come on, let's go!"_

_The final round begins with everyone's spirits high and dancing with energy. Ruby and Weiss are near the middle, and Blake and Yang strategically situate themselves at the back._

_Blake can't stop looking at Yang. She has never seen Yang like this, entirely focused and actually enjoying it. She doesn't know what It is, but it makes her look like she's glowing and Blake thinks she's really really pretty it's a little ridiculous. That's actually a lie because what Blake really means is that she's beautiful no actually drop dead gorgeous no actually—_

_Her thoughts derail as the first whistle blows and those at the front run for the balls lined up in the middle of the court._

_Blake shakes her head. What the hell was that? Yang is her best friend it's completely inappropriate to think those kind of thoughts._

_But she really is pretty, though._

_Balls whizz by, but not close enough for Blake to jump out of the way, just kind of side step. Those at the front were the first to go, and their numbers start to dwindle._

_Yang jogs back from behind Blake and hands her a ball. "Come on, let's see if we can get Russel out."_

_The game progresses quite quickly. Ruby had been hit out, though she doesn't seem to mind, laughing with some of the other students on the sidelines. It's a five versus five; their team is kind of in an awkward triangle, with two at the front and three at the back. The other team are in a line, out of balls and waiting._

_One of the boys in Blake's team sends a ball an inch short of Cardin's leg. Cardin grabs the ball, hurls it back immediately and Blake ducks to avoid the red blur that whizzes past her head._

_"Cardin!" Coach Bottalico barks, voice breaking in anger. "Aim! BELOW! The! Waist!"_

_"It_ _slipped__ ."_

_"Asshole," Yang mutters and looks at Blake, who nods. They step towards the front, looking at their target. With a silent countdown that comes with the best friends title, they heave their balls in unison. To his credit, Russel nearly catches Yang's ball, but fumbles when he realises there's another one hurling his way. Like a deer in headlights, he freezes and the balls hit his thigh and calf. The whistle blows._

_"Out! Nice job, girls."_

_Yang and Blake grin at each other, exchanging a high five before jogging backwards back to the base line._

_Weiss is the next to go — "Drat!" — followed by another one from their team and two from the opposition. It's a two versus two._

_"Woo!" Ruby whoops from the sidelines, starting a crescendo of cheers. "Go Bumblebee!"_

_Bumblebee is the name Ruby dubbed Yang and Blake's best friendship. It's cute harmless whatever, but pride spears through Blake every time she hears it._

_It's Bumblebee versus Cardin and Tommy, and each side has two balls. They eye each other, almost comically serious for a gym class, before Yang lobs her ball. It whizzes between the boys, and Cardin takes aim. He launches a ball towards Blake, who narrowly dodges it with a jump. The back and forth continues, neither side having much luck hitting the other. Cardin's obviously getting angrier by the minute, his throws starting to lean towards fast _ _rather _ _than accurate._

_Blake sees it first: Cardin's wielding two balls, looking at Yang with blood in his eye. He wings a ball right at her, and Tommy follows it with his own. They're well placed balls and Yang's caught — nobody without ninja skills would be able to catch or dodge them. Totally unconsciously, Blake's _ _body _ _catapults her forward and even she doesn't know what happened next._

_So when the sound of a rubber ball hitting solid matter reverberates through the gym, Blake slowly notices a dull ache on her arm and the back of her leg, which had bent in what she assumes was instinct. Yang looks at her with a kind of stupefied shock before she grins and laughs._

_"Holy sh—" _ _Yang_ _ cuts herself off and_ _ holds her hand up for a high five. "Blake, you're insane."_

_Ya_ _ng_ _ opens her mouth to say more but is cut off when the sound of ball hitting matter rings again and Blake stumbles forward. Yang's hands reach out and holds her steady — "woah woah woah" — before she looks above Blake's head. She barely registers Bottalico screaming from the sidelines, when she realises Cardin had thrown his second ball right at the back of Blake's head._

_Tommy looks sympathetic and inches away when Bottalico charges up to Cardin and drags him off court. Yang would've yelled at him, demanded suspension, but then Blake in her arms says, "Ow," and her concern dwarfs her anger, simple as that._

_She eases back to look at Blake. Her eyes are a bit dazed, but she looks at Yang with a lop-sided smile._

_"Ow," she repeats._

_Yang's shoulders jerk in a quickly suppressed laughter. "Damn right, ow. You okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"_

_"Twelve."_

_Yang_ _'s mouth furl into a grin_ _ and _ _she _ _slings an arm around her shoulders. "Okay."_

_Ruby and Weiss rushes up to them. Ruby asks first. "Are you okay?!"_

_"I'm fine,_ _ guys. It_ _ was a rubber ball."_

_"What an absolute waste of space," Weiss decrees as she stares at Cardin's back._

_Shaking her head, Blake tries to change the subject, "But we had fun, right? We won. We kicked ass."_

_"We kicked _ _major__ ass," Yang corrects. "And we definitely won that last game."_

_"We should still kick Cardin's butt," Weiss tells them. "Nobody hurts __my__ friends and gets away with it."_

_"Feisty," Yang says. "But I like it better when it's Blake being feisty, so if she says it's fine then it's fine."_

_"Besides," Ruby snickers. "Coach B got so red in the face _ _Cardin_ _ probably got detention for the month."_

_"That'll do," Weiss allows._

_As they amble back to the changing rooms, Blake has a fleeting thought that she really really loves her friends._

* * *

"Hello, this is Pyrrha speaking."

"Pyrrha," Blake starts. "I'm sorry I cut off. Connection must be bad...or something."

"Oh, it's alright. Is everything okay?"

_No._ "Yeah," she clears her throat. "Um, so. October?"

"Yes, October 17. I've always wanted a fall wedding."

"That's...a bit early for fall."

"Weiss said that too, but she and I think you'll be able to work with it. Please do my flowers, Blake." Pyrrha's voice takes on a pout. "I've never seen more beautiful bouquets than the ones you make. And I want my friends to be there with me every step of the way."

"I'll...I'll have to talk to Weiss—"

"Of course, of course. I can give you her number? She said you two email."

"Yeah, um. Sure. Give me her number. I'll call her. I'll call her right now."

* * *

Weiss is working on the Steele-Dawson timetable when she gets the text. Calmly, she closes her laptop, stands out of her chair and shuts her office door. It's a low probability that Ruby or Yang would bust in at this time of the day, but she can never be too sure. Right on schedule, her phone rings.

"Weiss Schnee of Fables," she answers.

"Weiss?"

It hits her just how long it's been since she's heard this voice. "Blake?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. It's really you. What—why—" She clears her throat. "How are you?"

"I'm good, um. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year. Blake, the _rules_."

"No, no," Weiss' brows hike up. "It's okay now."

"It's...okay?"

"Yeah. It's okay. I'm okay."

"That's good. I'm glad. It's nice to hear you."

"Yeah," Weiss catches the hitch in Blake's voice. "You too. I...heard you're planning Pyrrha's wedding."

"Yes," Weiss replies. "Full service, October 17. She mentioned you for florals."

"I'm not sure...I have my shop, I need to—"

"How about this?" Weiss interrupts. "Come here just for a few days. It's been a while since you've seen the estate. I've changed a few things. Just come here and have a look around and decide. If you don't — can't — help, if you'll be too busy, then at least talk to one of our florists. You know what Pyrrha would want. You can direct one of our florists, give some pointers. But..." she trowels some more, "Pyrrha seemed to really want you for her wedding. As her wedding planner, I'm going to do everything I can to make her happy."

She knows she'd hit the spot when Blake sighs, "I'll come for a few days. I'm still not sure, Weiss. And do you even think—"

"Don't worry about a thing. They'll be fine. I can also offer you a room in the estate, save you some money for accommodation. I can get Klein to pick you up from the airport as well. It's practical," Weiss insists as she hears the first noise of hesitation. "That way, it'll give you more time to look at the venue. For Jaune and Pyrrha."

Blake sighs again and Weiss silently chalks up a victory. "I'll book a flight for next week. I'll email you my flight details when I get it."

"Perfect."

"Bye, Weiss."

"Blake?"

"...Yeah?"

"I missed you."

A pause, then two. When she finally speaks, Blake's voice comes out small, "I missed you, too."

* * *

_A/N: So this one's more or less a setting up chapter, to see what Blake's been upto and who she has in her life right now. Next chapter is obviously the big Reunion. Would love to hear what you think!_


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